through the night
howled and whistled
i gave it my attention
but that wasn't enough.
the cracked pane of glass
that frames the view from my bed . . .
a late autumn moon
still high in the sky
last night the wind and rain together blew,
the wall-curtains rustled in their autumn song.
the candle died, the water-clock was exhausted,
i rose and sat, but could not be at peace.
man's affairs are like the flow of floodwater,
a life is just like floating in a dream.
i should more often go drunken through the country,
for otherwise I could not bear to live.